


2ex (Or, Why Double Stuffed Oreos are Not Appropriate Discussion Topics During Concupiscent Events)

by Newtavore



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bad Puns, Bulges and Nooks, Fluff and Smut, Headaches & Migraines, I can't believe that's actually a tag, M/M, Magic Cock, Not Serious, Oreo Sex Jokes, Sexual Content, The Curative Power of Boning, mentioned captorcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtavore/pseuds/Newtavore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux has a migraine. Psiioniic uses his magic healing bulge and the power of sex to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2ex (Or, Why Double Stuffed Oreos are Not Appropriate Discussion Topics During Concupiscent Events)

**Author's Note:**

> please for the love of god don't take this seriously i mean my friend tried to get me to name it Captoring the Booty for god's sake i don't think i can write anything less serious.

You can't take it any more.  

 

 

You are done, you are _so fucking done_ , you can't deal with anything right now. The voices are so loud you're having trouble hearing things in the real world, and you can't think straight, can't focus on anything that isn't the screams of the almost-dead, the dying. Something big must be happening somewhere soon, but you have no clue when or where, only that it's in a place that speaks a language that you don't understand. 

 

You can't sleep with the wailing of thousands filling up your mind. 

 

Your head slams against your desk once, twice, three times, and you wonder if they'll shut up if you knock yourself out. You don't think so, but anything is looking like a good idea at this point, up to and including drowning yourself in the shower or swallowing a coon's worth of sopor slime. 

 

If it works on Gamzee's cracked and broken pan, you think maybe it'll fix you too. 

 

Before you can actually drag yourself over to your recuperacoon, though, something touches you lightly on the shoulder and makes you jolt hard enough to knock you out of your chair. 

 

"Sorry!" you hear distantly, like whoever is speaking is a million miles away, "Sorry, Sollux, I told you I was here!!"

 

Mituna. Mituna's crouched in front of you, looking pitifully guilty, and you sigh. You're irritable and snappy, but you find it hard to stay angry at Mituna even on a good day; either he's pulling out all the cute stops, with the innocent face and the bark beast eyes (and he does it on purpose too, you know he does, the little sneak), or he's throwing fits left and right and creating the most amusing clash of cursewords you'd ever heard. 

 

You're glad he's not throwing a fit right now, though. You don't think your poor pan could handle it. 

 

"It's alright," you lisp, your voice sounding strange and foreign to your ears, "I can't hear very well right now. Not your fault."

 

You can't think very well right now either, and that's probably why you didn't notice him continue talking. In fact, you almost forgot he was still in the room, and when he grabs you by the shoulders, it startles you again, though you don't flail quite as much. 

 

"Are… you… okay?" he says, slowly, carefully, sounding out every word to make sure they're understandable. It kind of hurts sometimes, to see him struggle with shit like that, but then he starts singing insults like lullabies and all questions of him being completely in charge of his mental facilities go flying out the window, because no one damaged in the think pan too badly can come up with gold like that. 

 

You nod in response to his question, instantly regretting the action. Wow, that hurt. That was not a good idea, nodding gets crossed off the list of things you are going to do, ever. Nodding is anathema to you. 

 

"You don' lo-ook okay," he says, frowning. His teeth worry his lower lip and you reach up to stop him from biting through it, allowing your fingers to linger for a few dazed moments. How can someone who chews and bites at himself constantly have lips  that are so soft? Yours are chapped, rough to the touch in a way that makes the pads of your fingers crawl. 

 

"Gonna get Psii," he mutters, and you can barely hear him over the rush of screaming in your head, but you can tell he intends to move you, mainly because he actually picks you up. You yelp and cling to his neck, pain flaring bright through your skull, and demand to be let down. You don't think you're going to be, though, because even to you that last bit had sounded slurred beyond recognition. 

 

You move, he moves, and you hear murmuring underneath the screaming, a quiet, calming drone to counteract the frantic pace of your thoughts. Something touches your face, and you lean into the contact, sighing. 

 

"Sollux?"

 

You crack your eyes open and stare into the Psiioniic's glowing optics, his concerned face frowning down at you. 

 

"Voices," you lisp, trying and failing to keep the whine out of your tone, "They're loud. Lotta people, won't shut up. Can't understand'em."

 

He leans down and kisses you softly on the forehead, the cheek, your lips. You try to follow his mouth when he pulls away, but he shushes you and lifts you up with his psiioniics, red and blue flickering faintly in the corners of your vision. Your body is weightless like this, and you relax as much as you can with the pain filling your skull because psiioniics have to be the best way to travel hands down. 

 

You're set down on something soft, and it takes you a stupidly long time to realize that it's a bed, Psii's bed. The gauzy yellow and orange sheets send sensation rushing up your limbs, little prickles of feeling from the fabric and the static that seemed to cling to everything you touch. 

 

"Let's see if we can't make you feel better," Psii murmurs, voice barely audible but still rolling through your mind like thunder. He slides your shirt off with psionics while he unbuttons your pants with his fingers, and you growl half heartedly, wriggling. 

 

"Fuckin'- I have a  _migraine_  Psii I don't want anything to do with your needy fucking bulge," you moan, throwing an arm over your eyes to try to block out everything, "It hurts, I am in _so much_ fucking pain right now-"

 

He shushes you and presses another kiss to your lips, and you sigh into the light touch. He doesn't try to push it further, just keeps it chaste, comforting, before he pulls away and places a hand on your bare chest. 

 

"Sex will help, you know," he says, rubbing the thin skin covering your ribcage, letting red and blue sparks run across his fingers, "There's all sorts of scientific crap I could recite, but I'm just going to say it works for me, and it'll help drown out the voices. Let me make you feel good, yeah?"

 

He slides one of his legs between yours, caging you in with his lanky body, looming over you. It's comforting to be trapped underneath him like this, because you know that nothing could hurt you here, nothing but him, and you're a fair match if you two ever got in a fight. 

 

"You want to give it a go or should I knock you out?"

 

Ugh, getting knocked out by psionics is almost as bad as keeping the headache. It leaves you disoriented and sluggish for the next day or so afterwards, and keeps you out for far longer than you'd normally sleep. If you had to pick between suffering through this shit until you passed out, getting knocked out for god knows how long, or getting sexed up by Psii in a way that'll probably be at least halfway pleasurable and may or may not get rid of this hideous migraine, well, the choice practically makes itself. 

 

"Give it to me baby," you groan, an obnoxiously fake noise that wouldn't sound amiss on a cheesy porn soundtrack. 

 

He snorts and leans down, licking the side of you face with his forked tongue and getting his nasty slobber all over your cheek. 

 

"You  _are_  pretty fly, for a white guy," he snarks back, and you deeply regret showing him any of the human's strange media because _holy fucking hell_ that was _terrible_. He and Mituna always latched onto the weirdest things, the stupidest videos and music and sometimes it was funny but most of the time it made you want to punch one or both of them in the bulge. 

 

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm fucking grey."

 

He licks you again, flicking one tongue tip against the lobe of your ear and you shiver because that feels unexpectedly good. His hands are doing things that also feel good, but you don't have enough brainpower to focus on more than one thing at a time right now, and since he just started kissing you, you think you should pay attention to that. 

 

" _I'm_  fucking grey, you're  _getting_  fucked," he responds when you both separate for air, caressing your hips in the process and it's such a bad fucking joke that you're actually incapable of responding for a moment. You are knocked speechless by your shitty ancestor and his shitty, shitty jokes. 

 

"I regret ever showing you the internet," you choke out, voice cracking a little halfway through the sentence because he's latched onto your neck with his ragged fangs and is alternating between biting you and licking at the little lacerations he causes. Everything is at a counterpoint to the massive amount of pain you're in, and feels so much better by comparison.

 

"No you don't. No one else could ever live up to your idealized, shitty 4chan humor."

 

He laps at your pulse point, scrunching his body in and rubbing his thigh between your legs. It feels so fucking good, so fucking good that you almost forget about your headache and the screaming of hundreds and thousands of angry, almost-dead people and you squirm in the cage he's made with his body, breath coming a bit too short. 

 

"I think- I think you're confusing me with Mitun-ah!" you gasp, body jolting, as he scrapes his teeth down the length of your neck, jogging his leg up at the same time. 

 

"Speaking of Mituna," he says, casually, barely even winded, "Should I call him in? You seem like you need to get… ehe, double-stuffed tonight."

 

You let out a breathy moan that devolves halfway through into unattractive sniggering because did Psii really just make an  _oreo sex joke?_  

 

He fucking did. Of course he did. 

 

You smack his shoulder and cover your face with your free hand, laughing helplessly as he continues to lave your jaw and throat with his tongue. He's laughing too, quiet little giggles that let you know he knows exactly how terrible that joke was and he doesn't feel guilty for it in the slightest. 

 

"No," you answer when you can finally breath again, "'Tuna's too loud. Not now."

 

Psii's too loud too, really, and all this rocking and squirming isn't doing much for your head, but you already feel a little better, lighter almost. And the pleasure really is mixing with the pain in the most interesting of ways, and while you were the last person to get involved with shit like masochism, you could understand how this might be appealing to some people. 

 

He kisses you, once he stops giggling, a deep, slow kiss that has you melting into a puddle on the bed, his hands sweeping across your sides, down your ribs, and to your hips before starting up the motion again. It's relaxing, super relaxing, and your eyes fall shut under his ministrations, hands resting on the bed beside your head. 

 

"How's your head?"

 

"My brain hasn't melted out of my ears so I think I'm still alive."

 

"That bad, huh?"

 

He nuzzles your cheek, flicking out his tongue and swiping at the dark shadow underneath one eye. You twitch in irritation, but he pets your sides again and you relax, sighing. 

 

"Maybe if you slept more you wouldn't get them as often."

 

"Sure thing,  _dad_ ," you grumble, groaning as he plays his fingers over your ribs, your grubscars, down to your prominent hipbones then back up, retracing his path, little red and blue sparks skittering across your skin. 

 

"Is that the way we're taking this because-"

 

You slap a hand over his mouth before he has the chance to finish that sentence because no, you are not going there. _Ever_. That is not a route which you will be going with Psii because you cannot, _will not_ see him as a father figure. He'd make a terrible one anyways. 

 

He laughs behind your hand and licks it, spreading slobber all over the appendage. Gross. 

 

You have no idea why he likes licking things so much but it's kind of hot and also disgusting at the same time, mainly because he could only control the amount of saliva he produced every other lick or so. Which left you either shivering in pleasure or covered in yellow tinged spit.

 

One was sexy, one was not. 

 

"Goddammit Psii you're drooling everywhere," you whine, wiping your hand off on his shirt, which he is still wearing. In fact, he's wearing all of his clothes still, while you are clad only in a pair of too-big boxer shorts. They were covered in little bees, which means they were probably Mituna's, but it's not like you had time to sort through whose clothes were whose, especially when Mituna insisted on dumping everything in the same two drawers whether it was his or not. 

 

Either way, Psii was still wearing everything he'd walked into the room with, which was not okay in your book. In fact, at the moment, anything other than Psii's bare skin on yours was completely unacceptable, but his shirt had all these stupid fiddly buttons and your hands were shaking too much to get them undone. 

 

You try to use your own powers to help, but when you reach for them, a hideous, bright pain flares up right behind your eyes, and you clap your hands to your head and moan as your teeth grind together. 

 

"Fuck, Sollux, don't use your fucking psionics," Psii says, and he pulls your hands away and kisses your forehead, your cheek, "Just ask for whatever you want, okay? Use your words, brat."

 

You make an agreeing sound, tugging at his shirt with one hand. 

 

"Clothes off?"

 

He nods, kisses you again, and pulls back just enough to strip off his shirt. You sit up, lean forward until bare skin touches bare skin and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest. He radiates warmth, he feels like a fucking furnace and it's beautiful because you're suddenly cold. 

 

"Breathe, Sollux."

 

You are breathing, you know how to fucking breathe it's not that hard-

 

"Sollux."

 

You take in a deep, stuttering breath, curling your hands over his shoulders. He kisses you, licks over your lips and teases your tongue into lazy battle, and you spend who knows how long just making out, trading soft kisses and petting. 

 

And then Psii has to ruin the languid, relaxed mood by looking deep into your mismatched eyes and whispering, "Dude, I have the biggest boner right now."

 

You can't decide whether to punch him or start laughing, so you do both, your irritating, hiccuping giggles barely audible over the sound of his pained wheeze. 

 

"That was uncalled for," he gasps, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, muffling his next words, "You should be flattered, it was a compliment!"

 

"You need to stop watching TV with Mituna," you groan, rubbing the side of your face against his hair, breathing in the scent of honey and ozone that seemed to cover all three of you, "That was not a compliment." 

 

He mumbles something unintelligible and goes back to mouthing your neck, licking and biting already yellowing bruises. 

 

"If you keep doing that people are gonna start asking if you beat me," you grumble, but it feels good and the pain in your head is starting to play second string to the pleasure coursing through you. He laughs into your neck and sucks another hickey in one of the few unmarked places left, mumbling around his mouthful of flesh. 

 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over your deplorable manners. Didn't your lusus teach you not to speak with your mouth full."

 

He bites down, a teasing nibble, and pulls away, licking his lips. 

 

"I said, they're just jealous of how awesomely you're getting laid," he smirks, ducking his head and licking the underside of your jaw, tilting your head back for easier access. It's a vulnerable position, one that leaves you trembling instinctually, but you calm as he slows down, laving your throat with his tongue. 

 

"I really am horny as fuck," he mutters, using psionics to ease you onto his lap and running his hands down your front, thumbing at the waistband of your boxers, "Your head?"

 

"Feeling a bit less like a ticking time bomb," you answer truthfully, biting back a whimper as he pushes a leg between your thighs, "This is… successfully distract- distracting me- mmm…."

 

"Well it's about to get a whole lot more distracting."

 

He holds you up with his powers and shucks off the rest of his clothes, bifurcated bulge thrashing between his legs. Your own boxers are thrown off as well, and he sits back on the bed and settles you in his lap, chest to chest, bulges twining with each other. 

 

You're leaking genetic material everywhere, but you don't feel too awkward about it because so is he, both of you panting for it after so long just messing around. Your headache is background noise, mind flooded with so many conflicting signals that you could hardly tell up from down, much less pain from pleasure. 

 

Psii sighs into your neck and touches your intertwined bulges, and you can feel him grin as they wrap themselves between his fingers, pulsing softly. You moan and buck a little, but he holds your hips still with his free hand, laughing when you snarl at him. 

 

"I told you I'd make you feel good, right?" he breathes, kissing up your neck, mouthing along your jaw and licking at your lips, "Let me make you feel good." 

 

He kisses you again, snagging your lip with his ragged fangs, and wraps both hands around your hips, lifting you up a bit. The first bulge slides in smoothly, and you let your head fall back in pleasure, the feeling of him filling you up almost overwhelming. 

 

He writhes inside of you, loosening you up, warm and thick and perfect, and you can't help but make noise. You hate the way you sound, your weird tongue and teeth distorting your keens and groans, but he never seems to mind. He just keeps dragging out as many noises as he can, smirking triumphantly with each one, kissing and licking you when you're especially loud, much to your embarrassment. When he deems you relaxed enough, he lifts you up with his psionics again, and starts wriggling in his second bulge, ever so slowly, and god you're so full, he's filling you up so much, it feels so fucking _good_ -

 

He rubs a hand over your stomach, kneading little circles into the taut flesh. 

 

"Relax, Sollux, you can take me, I know you can," he croons, and you kind of want to bite him, because he's treating you like you're going to break even though both of you know you can take much more than him. 

 

"Of course I fucking can," you hiss, panting as you're held in midair, unable to move, "I took you and Mituna _both_ last week, so just shove the damn thing inside me already!"

 

He laughs, kisses your forehead, and drops you on his second bulge. You cry out at the sudden stretch, but it doesn't hurt, not after you'd taken more so many times. It's a shock, and _fuck_ if it doesn't feel good to have him twining around himself inside your nook, spreading your legs wide around his thighs and holding you open.

 

Your hands clutch his shoulders, and you hide your face in his neck, trying to stifle your stupid noises. It doesn't work, because he gives you maybe thirty seconds of reprieve before thrusting up sharply, making you yelp. He sniggers, and you bite him in retaliation, which doesn't really work because it makes him moan and thrust again, harder. 

 

"Fuck," you whimper, and you grind your hips down, taking in all he has to give.

 

Your headache is a distant memory at this point, and it becomes even more so when he mouths one of your horns, slobbering all over the damn thing in a way that should not have sent pleasure racing up your spine. 

 

"Feels good, yeah?" he groans, licking up one set of horns, taking the largest one into his mouth and sucking on it. 

 

The feeling makes you gasp, mouth hanging open, and suddenly you feel lightheaded, like you can't get enough air. 

 

"Breathe, Sollux," he murmurs, licking your horns, rubbing the back of your neck with one hand. You choke in a breath, then another, back arching as you grind your hips against his, and his bulges twist inside of you. He thrusts up again, and you think you're keening now but there's this rushing in your ears that has nothing to do with the voices and everything to do with _Psii_ , his bulges, his tongues, the hands he has on your hip and your neck. 

 

He feels so fucking good, everything feels so good, your claws sink into his shoulders when your hands clench but he just thrusts into you harder, faster, and fuck _fuck_ it's too  _much_ , it feels too _good_ -!

 

He lets go of your hips and lets your bulges twine through his fingers, and the gentle pressure of his hand is enough to send you over the edge. 

 

You're wailing, a high, breathy, embarrassing noise, and you think you might be crying but you don't fucking care because the bastard never grabbed a fucking _pail_ and now he's filling you up, never letting go of you, stroking you through the aftershocks and filling you to the brim with heat. 

 

You're curled into his chest, panting, limbs shaking, and so, so _full_ that you're shivering with a second orgasm, a second wave of genetic material flooding your lap, before his bulges have even retracted. 

 

"Feel good, Sollux?" he lisps, and he has the most egotistical, shit eating grin on his face that you want to hit him hard enough to knock his stupid head off, but you're too exhausted to even move. 

 

His grin softens when he tilts your face up to meet his, and he gently wipes away the tear tracks from under your eyes. 

 

"You alright?"

 

"I'm fine," you sigh, too tired to be truly pissed. Psii smiles and kisses you, all lips and tongue and no teeth. 

 

"Headache gone?"

 

"Yeah…"

 

You're tired, and you're in Psii's arms and he's warm and comfortable and you're _tired_. You know that you should get up, clean yourself up, but you can't think of anything you'd like to do less, and you know if you lay here long enough, or pretend to be asleep, Psii'll take care of everything for you. 

 

If you actually _did_ fall asleep, well, Psii and his damn headache cures only have themselves to blame. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> im so s orry omfg this is terr ible gah


End file.
